


Juanando AU with kids and debts

by prompt_fills



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Fatherhood, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1667066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a href="http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/"><b>footballkink2</b></a>, PP4, <a href="http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/9768.html?thread=4651816#t4651816"> for a prompt demanding angsty yet sweet Juanando with kids and debts.</a><br/>This is <strike>a bit</strike> angsty, a bit romantic, a bit Fernando-is-an-awesome-father and a bit Juan-is-so-good-with-Nando's-kids story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lumaste](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lumaste).



> This story was supposed to be a Christmas exchange fic for [](http://lumaste.livejournal.com/profile)[ **Lumaste** ](http://lumaste.livejournal.com/) but despite her constant support and cheering on the fic, I've been editing it for MONTHS - I can't rest until I get this finished.
> 
> The prompt says:  
> Fernando is a single father of two, who barely makes ends meet. Juan is his friend, who is slightly better off than Fernando, but not much. One day Fernando loses his job and doesn't know how he's going to pay his rent, take care of his kids and to pay his debts (he's indebted to some serious people, who constantly terrorize and threaten him wanting their money back). Juan offers him to move to his place with the children until he finds a new job and pays his debts. Having no other choice Fernando agrees.  
> So basically I want a bit angsty, a bit romantic, a bit Fernando-is-an-awesome-father and a bit Juan-is-so-good-with-Nando's-kids story.

. . .

Fernando is freezing. He rubs his hands together, tugs his scarf a litter closer around his neck and buries his hands deeper into his pockets. Thick snowflakes are getting stuck to his face as he aimlessly wanders the streets.

He has no idea what to tell them. What to tell his kids. And Juan.

Fernando slowly lets out a breath. The warm mist melts a few snowflakes, but it only makes him feel colder. He keeps walking; long, even strides eating up the pavement. He keeps walking until the dark settles and the church next to the park chimes eight o’clock. Then, reluctantly, he heads back home. It’s still snowing and the wind is sharp. He wishes he could stay outside a little longer but it’s already past the time he is supposed to be back home from _work_. The work he got sacked from. He can barely believe it himself and he can’t imagine telling Juan. But Juan deserves to know.

By the time he climbs up the stairs to his rented flat, he changes his mind once again. He can’t tell Juan.

It takes a few tries to get the front door open; his hands are shaking and his fingers feel numb. He doesn’t have time to pull himself together because the moment the lock clicks open, Nora is there, wearing her pyjamas, beaming up at him, her eyes bright and happy. Fernando gulps. “Hey sweetie, daddy’s home,” he croaks as he hangs his coat and gathers her into his arms.

“I told you daddy wouldn’t miss it,” Juan shouts from the living room. The living room that is also their bedroom and their kitchen. Fernando steps inside to see Leo and Juan on the ground, playing Snakes and Ladders. Juan gave Leo the game for his birthday.

“Of course, I wouldn’t.” Fernando stops tickling Nora with his chilly hands and sets her down while mouthing _What?_ at Juan.

Juan shakes his head, smiling. _Bedtime story_ , he mouths back.

“Won’t you say hi to me, Leo?” Fernando turns his attention to his son, holding out his arms.

Leo points a finger at Juan. “Don’t cheat!” Then he is up on his feet, running across the room where they live and cook and eat and sleep and play. Next month, Fernando won’t be able to afford this much.

“I missed you,” Fernando says, lowering his head to hide his face in Leo’s embrace. “Did you miss me too?”

“No,” Leo answers honestly. “Juan was here.”

Fernando feels a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “What were you doing the whole day? Were you nice to Juan?”

“Like always, they were little angels,” Juan says and Fernando looks up in time to catch the grin Juan shares with Nora. He really wants to know but he also really doesn’t want to ask.

“Can I finish the game before you tug us in, daddy?” Leo asks, dropping his head on Fernando’s shoulder. Fernando carries him across the room and Leo hops down to settle back to the game, not really waiting for Fernando’s answer.

“Of course you can. Have you eaten already?”

“Yeah, I made them dinner and then I made them brush their teeth. We even managed a bath, didn’t we?”

Both kids murmur their agreements.

“Any leftovers?” Fernando asks, his tone carefully neutral.

“No, we ate everything, sorry!” Juan says. “Were you hungry? I could–”

“I’ve already eaten at work,” Fernando lies smoothly, sitting down on the couch. Nora curls to his side and they watch Leo and Juan play. Nora is chattering about what they have been doing the whole day and Fernando tries to keep up with her even though his own mind is elsewhere.

Juan lets Leo win and Fernando lets Nora help him unfold the couch while Leo and Juan tidy up after their game.

Juan grabs his jacket and his keys and kisses the kids goodnight. “See you tomorrow,” he says to Fernando and he is out of the door. Fernando gratefully lets the chance to talk to Juan slip away. He can always tell him tomorrow. Or the following day. Or, maybe, never.

Fernando walks to the corner of the room where two beds for the kids are squeezed together. The kids are already waiting, happy and oblivious to the rest of the world. He sits on the edge, picks up a worn out copy of _Brown Bear_ and starts reading.

He can worry about the future once the kids are asleep.

 

****

. . .

Fernando stays up the whole night, worrying, but in the morning he wakes up the kids with a smile firmly plastered on his face. He makes them breakfast and drops them off at Juan’s so he can _go to work_.

He has no work to go to so he strolls down the city, no direction in his mind. The lunch time comes and passes but Fernando doesn’t eat anything. He keeps his head down and he circles the city in random patterns. He’s so busy worrying, that he pays a little notice to where he is going. A group of five men step into his way. Fernando looks up, startled. Except for them, the narrow alley is empty. Fernando glances over his shoulder, wondering if he should make a break for it.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. Our men are standing right behind the corner.”

Fernando turns to look at the man who spoke. “Oh?”

“Today’s code is trigger-happy.” The man waves for Fernando to go if he wishes to meet his death.

Fernando stands up straighter. “What do you want?”

“You know what we want.”

“No,” Fernando snaps before the man finishes his sentence. The man smiles, clearly expecting the answer. He raises his hand to gesture to his fellows.

“As you wish.”

Fernando makes a break for it, not stopping when the men start shouting and not stopping when three bullets wheeze past him in a warning. He turns the corner, relieved to see no one waiting for him there.

He runs.

And runs.

The city is big and Fernando has mastered _getting lost_ within the maze of its streets. It helps that they don’t follow him. It’s been just another warning.

Three hours later, Fernando is frozen to the bones and it’s still snowing like crazy. He triple checks he’s not being followed before he circles back to Juan’s place and knocks on the door. Through the closed door, Nora calls: “Who’s there?”

“Hi Nora, sweetie, it’s me. Will you let me in?”

“Daddy!” Nora shrieks in delight, throwing the door open. Fernando kneels down to her and she pecks his cheek. “Come in, daddy. Leo and Juan are in the kitchen. They are making a mess!” She has his hand in hers, and she’s tugging, urging him forward, barely waiting for him to kick off his boots. He follows her inside, wishing they could do this forever.

Nora pulls him into the kitchen, giggling at her little brother, who has his hands stuck in a dough, nearly elbows deep. The kitchen is a complete mess but Juan is smiling. Fernando’s stomach makes a funny little flip when he sees that warm smile.

“Hey, Fer, we weren’t expecting you.”

“We finished early. Not much to do. The business has been running low lately.” Lies, lies, lies.

For a moment, Juan gives him a piercing look and Fernando thinks Juan can see right through him but then Juan blinks and his gaze looses the sharp edge. “You can help us. We’re baking and we could definitely use a hand, right kids?”

Juan has already made them lunch and so they eat all together as they wait for the cake to bake. They promise the kids a piece of it for the supper with some hot cocoa, if they are good. The kids take their naps on Juan’s huge, soft sofa.

“My precious snowflakes,” Fernando chuckles, watching the kids with a fond expression on his face. The world seems to be a better place when Juan’s near him. Or maybe it’s just him having his stomach full.

Juan doesn’t return Fernando’s smile, instead motions Fernando to follow him to the kitchen. They leave the door adjust and speak in hushed voices as they do the dishes. They speak about random things and Fernando keeps waiting for Juan to _ask_ but Juan does not.

Fernando has to admit it works better than any interrogation. He drapes the dishtowel over his shoulder and takes in a breath. Juan wipes off his hands, turning to face him.

“I–,” Fernando starts. Juan looks at him with those sad eyes that already anticipate troubles. He doesn’t press. He patiently waits him out. Fernando doesn’t deserve to have Juan in his life. With another deep breath, he fumbles out: “I’ve lost my job.”

Juan, though obviously expecting bad news, didn’t see this coming. “What?” he says, his eyes widening, his tone raising.

Fernando has to look away from those blue, blue eyes. “They sacked me. I– It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” Juan hisses. “Are you sure you can’t–”

“Yes.”

“Have you tried–”

“Yes, Juan, I’ve tried. I’ve tried everything and went through interview after interview and it’s been like that for days now. I’m so,” Fernando throws a glance at the door, then lowers his voice to a whisper, “so fucked. They’re not hiring a single dad of two.”

Juan closes his eyes. Fernando practically hears him counting to ten. Then those beautiful eyes blink open again, sharp and focused. “Do you still have your savings?”

“Not much,” Fernando admits. “Leo’s been sick a lot this fall and–”

“I know, I know,” Juan interrupts him. He runs the back of his hand against his forehead, wiping his hair out of his face. “Fer, this is bad. But I’ve told you, you can always count on me.”

“I can’t take your money, Juan.”

“You can ask me for anything, Fer, I’m your friend.”

“That’s exactly why I can’t ask you this.” Juan looks up at him and Fernando leans back against the counter. He takes the dishtowel down from his shoulder, crumpling and then smoothing it again in his hands. “You don’t know how bad it is.”

“Tell me.”

“You wouldn’t like to know.”

Juan snorts. “Yeah, probably. But I _need_ to know, Fer. You have to be honest with me so we can figure out how to help you and your kids.” There is just the slightest emphasis on the last word but Fernando notices it because he always notices it when Juan is subtly being very persuasive.

“I can’t afford the rent and the energy bills are piling.”

“You should have told me,” Juan says, his voice quiet, his tone hard. “Those things are no joke, you can’t just–”

“I know!” They both fall silent after Fernando’s outburst. Fernando paddles back to the sink and takes one of the plates to wipe it dry. Juan starts washing the dishes again. The silence is heavy, tension tangible between them.

“Fer, I thi–”

“I’ve tried calling my parents.” They both speak up at the same time but Fernando just keeps talking over Juan. He can say this little lie. He might as well tried to call them. It wouldn’t make any difference. He’s dead to them. And so are the kids, though _they_ did nothing wrong and they most certainly don’t deserve this.

Fernando needs to get this out of his chest because he’s been keeping this misery to himself far too long. Now Juan already knows some of it so what’s the point in not telling him the whole story. Well, not the _whole story_ but as much of it as possible.

“You’ve tried calling your parents?” Juan echoes, incredulous. They never mention the kid’s mother and they don’t talk about Fernando’s parents or anything from _before_.

Fernando smiles bitterly. “I know it’s serious, man. I have no place to stay, no money and no job. And I know you don’t go bothering your family about those things.” Juan makes a strangled noise but Fernando waves him off. “Not my parents. But I called them anyway, I was hoping they would take care of Leo and Nora. I can take care of myself, I can deal just fine but the kids shouldn’t suffer because of me.” Fernando trails off, his gaze distant. Funny how telling lies gets easier with practise.

“But they didn’t want to hear any of it,” Juan says softly. He doesn’t even bother to make it sound like a question. Fernando nods, looking miserable and Juan reaches up to squeeze his shoulder. “Fer, Fer look at me.”

Fernando closes his eyes. “I don’t know what to do.” That, for one, is true.

Juan’s grip tightens and his fingers leave wet trails on Fernando’s shirt. “Fer. Look at me. It will get better.” Fernando snorts but he opens his eyes. Fernando isn’t sure what exactly it is in his eyes that makes Juan inhale sharply through his nose.

“This won’t get better, Juan. This is it, game over.”

Juan shakes him. “It’s not. Don’t ever talk like that. Don’t even think like that, Fer!”

“They will take my kids away from me,” Fernando voices the thought that has been haunting him day and night. “I can’t provide for them – I have no home for them. They will take them away.”

“Move in with me.”

The silence is ringing.

Finally, Fernando croaks: “What?”

“You’ve heard me. Move in with me. My flat is bigger, the kids can have their own room. We will split the rent once you find a new job. I can ask some people I know about a job for you. Part-time job, nightshifts, it doesn’t matter, Fer. We’ll get through this, it’s just temporary.”

“Juan...”

“I’m serious.” Juan’s thumb is soothingly stroking Fernando’s shoulder. Juan doesn’t seem to be aware of it and Fernando would rather bite his tongue off than to mention it. “I mean it. Move in. Move in today, I’ll help you pack. You... you can trust me with your kids, you know? It will be fine, Fer, I promise. We’ll make it better in no time, you’ll see. The kids will be okay.”

Fernando can’t speak because of the lump in his throat. He wants to believe, he wants to be comforted by Juan’s words, just for the moment. Juan is still standing right in front of him, keeping one arm on Fernando’s shoulder, so Fernando raises his arms and tugs Juan in for a hug and breathes in Juan’s comforting smell. Tears prickle in his eyes when Juan’s arms close around him in return. “The kids love you,” Fernando manages. His voice cracks. Juan doesn’t comment on it.

****

. . .


	2. Chapter 2

****

. . .

They break the news to the kids the very next day. They don’t tell them their daddy lost his job, they just pretend what a marvellous idea it is for them to move in with Juan and spend the upcoming holidays together. That way it seems to be a temporary arrangement – _which it is_ , Fernando reminds himself – and neither Nora nor Leo have a reason to be upset about leaving their old place. Actually, the kids are pretty excited about their new room that they can have for themselves and about the park they can see from their beds. They don’t asks difficult questions and Fernando wonders if it means he completely failed as a father.

They finish moving in – it takes much longer than Fernando would have imagined – and Fernando feels indebted to Juan more than ever. Juan can barely afford his own living and now Fernando forced himself into his life and dragged his kids along. Juan has been a huge help with the kids before, but this new arrangement, it’s just too much. The kids have their own room because Juan insisted on adapting his bedroom into the kids room. Juan and Fernando share the other room in which is just enough space for the two beds and some wardrobes. It already feels more _home_ than their old place. The thought makes Fernando sick to his stomach and he feels the walls of Juan’s apartment closing around him. He’s more than happy to get out, telling Juan he’s expected to show up for an interview.

He spends a few hours in the park close to Juan’s flat and when he feels like he can breathe again, he sneaks back inside. He is glad that for once, neither Nora nor Leo are there to give him their enthusiastic welcome. They’re probably taking their naps.

Juan finds him sitting on a sofa, staring into nothing. He drops down next to him. “What is it?” Straight to the point, how very Juan.

“They don’t seem to be upset about leaving the old flat. I think I didn’t manage to make it a real home. But I tried, Juan. I really tried.”

“It’s not that, Fer. They know this place, they feel at ease here. They’ve spent a lot of time here, so it’s not a drastic change. It will be okay.”

Of course it will be okay. Now that he dumped his problems on Juan, Juan will try his best to make things better. Fernando doesn’t deserve to call himself Juan’s friend. He wonders when was the last time he needed a drink this badly. “It’s just until I get back on my own feet,” Fernando mutters through his gritted teeth.

“Sure,” Juan says.

Fernando sighs and hides his face in his hands. “I need a drink,” he admits.

“You’re not getting drunk around the kids,” Juan says but his voice is a little uncertain, like he is asking Fernando, like he doesn’t want to lecture him how to raise his kids. As if Fernando did not just fail spectacularly at that.

“Of course not. It’s just been a rough week.”

Juan gives him _a look_ and opens him mouth to say something but at that exact moment, Nora opens the door to the living room, poking her head in. “Daddy! Leo, daddy’s here,” she calls over her shoulder as she scampers across the room and flings herself at Fernando. As usual, Leo is quick to follow his sister’s example.

“Hi, loves,” Fernando smiles at them.

“Guess what we were doing, dad! Guess what!” Nora exclaims happily.

“I don’t know, sweetie, why don’t you tell me?”

“We baked! I got flour into Juan’s hair.”

Fernando sighs, checking for Juan’s expression out of the corner of his eye. “Did he get mad?”

“No, he didn’t! And I apologized and then I helped him wash his hair.” Nora grabs Fernando’s hand and drags it up to Juan’s head. Fernando feels Juan’s hair underneath his fingers as his daughter’s hand guides him. “See? It’s all nice and soft, like always!”

“I see,” Fernando says quietly, untangling his hand from Nora’s grip. His heart is beating fast. “That’s nice, sweetie.”

Juan chuckles and gets up from the sofa, running a hand through his hair. “She was really helpful,” he praises her. Nora beams up at him and Fernando suddenly has to close his eyes because that smile, that smile is pure Olalla.

****

. . .

For the following week and half, things are good. Juan arranges for Fernando to look after his friend’s kid. Both Juan’s friend and his wife have to go to work and their nurse has a flu and they want their little baby boy to be taken proper care at their home. It’s convenient because Fernando can bring Leo and Nora along and they all spend the day playing games and having fun. Fernando is given a little money to buy food so he can make the kids – and himself – proper meals. Blissful days.

One late evening, when they are already back _home_ , he asks his kids: “What should we do now?”

“Be pirates!” Leo exclaims.

“I’m the captain,” Nora pipes up immediately. With an effort, she climbs up onto the kitchen counter and settles herself down, her feet swaying in the air. Fernando keeps an eye on her as he makes them all some tea.

Leo turns his head up to scowl at his sister. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I’m older, so I get to be the captain of the ship, tell him, Daddy, tell him!”

“But you’re a _girl_ ,” Leo whines.

Fernando gives them both a solemn look. “Can Daddy be the captain? He would love to. And he is the oldest, isn’t he?” Luckily, both Leo and Nora seem perfectly content with that, so Fernando soon finds himself sailing through the Caribbean, accompanied by his faithful crew.

When Juan comes back home and unpacks the shopping, the kids insist he embarks on the schooner as well. Fernando wishes days like that could last forever.

His forever doesn’t even last a fortnight. The nanny gets better and Fernando reverts back to his old moody self, as Juan calls it. He is restless, hunted by his old fears and he takes to wandering through the city once again. Occasionally, he gives a helpful hand here and there, but the job is always just a temporary fix.

Then, just before Christmas, things go wrong.

It’s not Fernando’s fault. Or maybe it is since he isn’t cautious enough. He is laying on his stomach, face pressed flat against the ground, before his brain even registers the threat. He doesn’t recognize the assailants but he knows what are they after.

After the initial shock, he puts up a fight. He rolls over and gets on his feet, ducking away from the punches instead of blocking them so he can try to lend a few hits himself. They have him back on the ground in no time. He doesn’t tell them anything, keeping his mouth shut. Only the occasional hiss of pain escapes him. They don’t want him dead, they want him frightened. He repeats it over and over in his head as the blows rain on him.

It takes hours before he manages to drag himself up on his feet and limp home. He waits until the lights go off in the living room. It’s past midnight when he slips inside, his steps barely audible on the lush carpets Juan loves so much. He creeps into the bathroom, closes the door behind him, flicks on the light and winces at the sight of his face in the mirror. He looks terrible. He looks like he took some serious beating. Which he did.

He starts washing the blood away. The water is still tinted pink by the time Juan appears, pausing awkwardly on the threshold. “Hi,” Fernando whispers. His jaw hurts.

Juan crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing.”

“What happened?” Juan repeats.

Fernando finishes washing his hands and turns the faucet off. Juan is still waiting, so he offers: “Wrong place. Wrong time.”

“Oh really,” Juan drawls quietly.

Fernando wipes his face with the towel, patting carefully around the tear on his left temple that has just stopped bleeding. “I’m fine.” Juan doesn’t reply to that, he just keeps watching Fernando. Fernando shifts uneasily under the scrutiny. “Nothing broken, no internal bleeding,” he assures.

“Right,” Juan says distractedly. He looks up at Fernando and scowls. “Don’t wake the kids, they shouldn’t see you like this. And throw that shirt away.”

Fernando looks down at his shirt. It’s torn and dirty and stained with blood. Not all of it is his blood, which probably wouldn’t reassure Juan at all. “Sure, sure,” Fernando says instead and Juan walks away.

With a heavy heart, Fernando finishes getting ready for the bed, heading to their bedroom. Juan has his backs turned to him, facing the wall. He is breathing steadily but Fernando is almost positive that Juan’s not asleep yet. It feels like a statement. All right. “Good night,” he whispers.

Juan doesn’t answer.

Fernando carefully settles down on his bed, hissing in pain. He’s had worse nights than this. He’ll have to feed the kids yet another lie and he’ll be okay in no time.

It’s Juan’s silence that hurts the most.

 

****

. . .

Fernando stirs awake, opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t get up for long minutes.

It’s Christmas. The kids have been giddy with excitement for the past few days and they have been behaving even better than usual because Juan told them that their letters won’t be delivered otherwise.

Fernando read the letters Juan wrote with the kids. Well, Leo and Nora dictated, Juan wrote it down. Fernando traced the lazy loops of Juan’s handwriting with the tip of his thumb, wishing he could have bought at least something that the letter listed. Juan helped the kids make it reasonable enough but all the kids will be getting is a pack of memory cards.

Fernando rubs at his eyes, slinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

He slouches into the kitchen, reaching blindly for the coffee pot. He gives it a little shake, satisfied when the liquid splashes inside. He grabs a cup and pours himself some coffee. Then he turns around to walk to the kitchen table and spots Juan already sitting there. Juan’s eyes are wide and he looks downright guilty. Fernando pauses, takes a gulp of the lukewarm coffee and grimaces. “Hi Juan.”

“Hi,” Juan returns sheepishly. “Um. I was going to tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Fernando asks, dragging himself to the nearest chair and sitting down heavily. He puts the mug down and rubs at his eyes. He freezes when Juan meows in reply. “What?”

When Juan doesn’t say anything, Fernando dares to open his eyes and look at him. There is a feeding bottle. With milk. And Juan is holding it in one hand and in the other, he is holding a kitten. A little fluffy kitten that meows again because the bottle is just a little far out of its reach.

“Are you insane?” Fernando gasps, staring at the little furry creature as if it were an alien.

“Why? It’s just a cat, Fer. Calm down.”

Fernando leans over the table to peer at Juan. “Calm down? Seriously, are you out of your mind?! Buying a cat! A bloody cat!”

“It will teach them a bit about responsibility. It’s a cat, cat’s don’t need much. Besides, I didn’t buy it.”

“Oh yeah. Rescue a kitten, plant a tree,” Fernando mocks. Then his voice raises up a bit. “You can’t keep it, Juan.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t need any freaking pets!”

“Oh, like you didn’t have any pets when you were growing up!” Juan snaps. The kitten sinks its little sharp claws into Juan’s fingers. Juan immediately loosens his grip on the kitten and he lowers his voice into a furious hiss: “This is my place, I could _buy a bloody cat_ if I wanted to.”

Fernando deflates. He should be thankful Juan takes in strays, otherwise he and his kids wouldn’t be here. “Sorry. Of course you could. You can do whatever you want, sure. It’s your place. Sorry.”

Juan sees the flash of panic in Fernando’s eyes and he sighs. “Fer, I mean it, it’s just a cat, this is not about you being here.”

“Sure, sure,” Fernando nods, his eyes still looking troubled. He picks up the mug again but doesn’t take a gulp.

“Fer,” Juan tries again, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this. I wanted the cat to be a surprise.”

Raising up from the table, Fernando snorts. “Well done.” He doesn’t wait for Juan’s response and retreats back into the bedroom. He only gets out when he hears the kids waking up. With a defeated sigh, he heads into the kitchen to make sure the kids don’t tear Juan’s cat apart when showering it with their love.

The cat is female and the kids insist on naming her Spunky. They love her, unconditionally.

Spunky is obviously just as insane as Juan, because she takes to Fernando. Juan is the one who feeds her, Nora is the one constantly picking her up and petting her and Leo likes to play with her. Fernando mostly ignores her but she forever keeps following him around, demanding his affection. Fernando usually gives in. For the sake of the kids, he tells himself. Anything for the kids.

 

****

. . .


	3. Chapter 3

. . .

The tension between Fernando and Juan is still there. They’re walking on eggshells around each other. Fernando does his best not to complain about the cat, Juan keeps his looks of disapproval at the absolute minimum. Fernando wants to explain things to Juan. Like, really, truly explain so the hard edge that Fernando sometimes sees in Juan’s eyes would disappear.  
Fernando stays up one whole night, mulling it all over, and by the time Juan wanders into the kitchen in the morning, Fernando is already waiting for him.

“She left us,” Fernando tells Juan instead of greeting him. If he’s going to think about it a minute longer, he’s going to lose his nerves.

Juan yawns. “Huh?”

“Olalla. She left me and the kids.”

Juan snaps his head towards Fernando, shaking off his sleepiness surprisingly quickly.

Fernando avoids Juan’s gaze but he continues: “I was at school when Olalla got pregnant and I left my studies to find a job. My parents did not approve. Of her, of the kid, of my choices. I had to choose between the family I had and the family I was going to have.” Fernando can feel Juan’s eyes on him but he refuses to look up. “My parents didn’t believe she was pregnant,” he adds.

“Did she–”

Fernando isn’t ready for Juan’s questions, so he speaks over him. “The first few months had been hard but we got the hang of it and then the kids came and it was all worth it. We were happy. So happy.”

Juan’s eyes are still on Fernando and his voice is quiet. “You’re allowed to be happy again, you know.”

“Yeah,” Fernando breaths out, barely audible. It doesn’t sound very convincing. It’s a start, though. Fernando walks to the kitchen counter and puts the kettle on. He takes out two mugs for coffee. He has to keep his hands occupied with simple tasks. “One day,” he says, “she called me on the phone. She was a mess. Her voice was shaking because she was crying. She sounded _scared_. She told me she witnessed something she shouldn’t have and that the police want to keep her safe. She sounded hysterical.”  
Fernando pulls out the teaspoons and out of the corner of his eye, he watches Juan. Juan is staring into nothing, his gaze unfocused. Fernando keeps talking: “I got the kids, packed a few things and I drove. She stayed in the country for the trial they wanted to start.”

By the time their coffee is ready, Spunky wakes up, making a bee-line for Fernando. She stretches, flexing her backs into an elegant curve and then rubs against Fernando’s legs. Fernando bends over to pick her up and cradle her. Perhaps she can sense how difficult it is for Fernando to tell the story. Fernando starts scratching behind her ears, watching her eyes squeeze shut in appreciation.

He startles a little when Juan asks: “You didn’t stay with her?”

“No. I couldn’t stay with her. The kids couldn’t either, they thought it too risky. I told them she left us. What else should I have said?”

Juan sighs. “I’m sorry, Fer.”

“Me too. I’ve tried to contact her several months ago but all the traces are gone. They hid her well and they can’t tell me where she is, they can’t tell me if she’s alive or not. It’s like she never...” Fernando lets out a breath. “So it was me and the kids, just like that. And Juan, you have to believe me, I really tired.”

“I know,” Juan murmurs softly. “I remember. When I met you, I...” Juan doesn’t finish but Fernando doesn’t need him to. He raises his eyes to exchange a small smile with Juan.

Fernando clears his throat. “I’ve tried my best to adapt to the city. But they people who were after Olalla, they found us. Found me.”

Juan sucks in a breath, surprised. He’s barely interrupting Fernando, probably because this is the story he’s been waiting to hear for so long and he’s afraid that Fernando will close off again, before Juan gets to know enough to make sense of Fernando’s situation. But once the floodgates are open, Fernando doesn’t seem to be able to stop. “I was stupid. When they found me, I thought that maybe, they could find Olalla _for me_. I thought that if I worked with them, I would find her. And that I would find her sooner than them.”

Juan takes a sip of his coffee; the slurp sounds way to loud in the sudden silence. Fernando wants to be done with sharing these painful memories. “I never learned if Olalla told me the truth. I didn’t learn anything new about her, either. But they thought I did and now they keep... insisting I tell them. They’re just trying to scare me out of my mind. It’s Olalla who has the answers and they decided I’m the key to get to her.”

Fernando picks up the cat and presses her against his chest, she snuggles her fuzzy head in the crook of Fernando’s neck so he can hear and feel her purring. “It’s only a matter of time before they realize I know too little – and too much,” he finishes in a broken whisper and closes his eyes against the tears that threaten to spill down his cheeks.

After a while, he composes himself enough to say: “They haven’t followed me home. They haven’t approached the kids, yet. And I want,” Fernando opens his eyes, reaching out to a pile of papers on the table, “I want you to take a look at this.” Fernando places the papers on the table and he is surprised to see his own hands shaking. It’s the form for a legal guardianship to his two little sweethearts. The only thing that’s missing is the signatures. And the court approval.

Juan reads through the stack of papers and Fernando waits nervously. When Juan finally finishes, his eye bore into Fernando’s with a surprising intensity. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Fernando promptly replies. “I have practically no savings left. I’m a single parent, I was made redundant and the living expenses–”

“Fer,” Juan interrupts him, “we can manage. This is too drastic and too abrupt.”

“For me, this has been a borrowed time,” Fernando objects.

Juan’s eyes darken with anger. “Stop talking like that, I hate it when you do. Is there no fight left in you? Can’t you see any other options? What do you think you’re going to do? Leave the kids with me and give yourself up?”

“Basically,” Fernando admits.

“I never thought you were selfish, Fer. Or crazy.”

“This hasn’t been an easy decision, Juan,” Fernando says slowly, because he’s just so exhausted and maybe even a little hurt that Juan doesn’t _get it_. “But there are no other options. I just want what’s best for the kids. What kid of life would they have with me?”

“That’s not how this is going to go,” Juan retorts. “You’re not giving up, we’re not giving up. We’re going to find a way. Ask for help, if you need to. You ask for the protection, too. We can move elsewhere and start anew, if we have to. But we’re doing this together.”

Fernando shakes his head, not able to form words. Juan interprets it as Fernando still objecting and his jaw sets in determination.

“If I’m not giving up, neither are you. This is your life we’re talking about, Fer. Promise me.” Juan gets up, crosses the room and rummages through the drawer, returning with a simple notebook and a pen. “We’re going to write down our expenses here to keep track on everything. Our expenses will be down to minimum. Let’s make this a turning point. You’re not alone, you know?”

Not trusting his voice, Fernando nods, taking the notebook and the pen from Juan. He opens the first page and scribbles down: _For the kids. For you and me._

 

****

. . .

Fernando comes back home and he quietly sneaks into the living room because he loves to see what Juan and the kids get up to when he’s gone. When he enters the living room, he pauses. The sofa and the table have transformed into a fort. There is a blanket half-thrown over the table. Juan and Leo are colouring a dragon Juan outlined for Leo. Nora is perched up on top of the table and she seems to be busy drawing on a sheet of paper as well. She grins at him when she notices him. Fernando greets them all and walks up to Nora to presses a kiss to her hair. “What are you drawing, princess?”

“Can’t you tell?” She pouts. “It’s a castle!”

Fernando peeks over her shoulder and for a while all he can see is an empty fishbowl. There are a few vertical stripes he assumes are trees, though. “It’s beautiful, sweetie.”

Spunky appears from underneath the blanket and starts rubbing herself against Fernando’s leg. With a sigh, he picks her up and carefully sits down on the sofa. “The beast is escaping from the dungeons,” Juan reports with a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Yeah,” Leo says, abandoning his pencils to crawl over to them. Only now Fernando spots the paper crown on his head. Leo notices his look and brightens up. “It’s really cool dad, isn’t it? Juan said I can be the king!”

“That’s really cool, your majesty,” Fernando agrees, lets Leo settle down and passes Spunky onto his lap.

A few moments pass peacefully. He savours them. Then he turns to Juan and says simply: “It’s done.”

Juan tenses for a second or two but when he looks up to meet Fernando’s gaze, his eyes are bright and clear. “Really?”

Fernando gulps. “Yeah. Looks like we’ll be moving again.” Juan grins.

Leo stops tapping the kitten’s paw and Nora uses the moment to steal Spunky for herself. Leo wiggles free, hops down on the floor and bites his lip. “Are we moving? Can Spunky come with us?” Then Leo gasps and turns his full focus is on Juan. “You’re coming with us, right? Right?!” He looks so serious and so genuinely worried that when Juan looks over at Fernando, they both have to laugh.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Juan answers honestly, bending over and hoisting Leo up against his hip. “Now kids, how about we tidy up and I read you that story like I promised, what do you say?”

Nora looks up at Juan, her big eyes full of adoration. “Really?”

“Sure thing, love. Bring me the book?”  
  
Nora hurries off to pick up the book and Leo plants a wet kiss on Juan’s cheek. “You’re the best, he sighs happily.”

Fernando watches them fondly before he gets up to feed the cat and take a shower.

By the time he returns, the table is back in its place and the scattered crayons are gone. Leo is still clinging to Juan’s side and Nora had crawled into Juan’s lap with the book in her hands. Juan is speaking in a high-pitched voice, probably delivering a princess’ part. Fernando leans back against the cushions and closes his eyes, smiling softly.  
He’ll tell Juan the whole story. Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon, he will.

When Fernando wakes up from his nap, Juan is still reading.

 

****

. . .


End file.
